


On the Rack

by spun809



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean is in Hell, Drabble, Gen, More angst, So is reader, cas is there, weird and short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 13:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10308557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spun809/pseuds/spun809
Summary: Reader meets Dean in Hell.





	

Laying on the rack, the harsh bite of metal stabbing your back, or maybe not your back it is hard to tell what is a true feeling and what is more of an idea. It’s strange, at once most painful experience of your have ever known, but also far removed somehow. A flicker of a shadow passes over you, then eyes pierce through the haze of fog that washes over everything, the color of a forest, and grass in summer time. Even though he cuts into you so perfectly, you can feel the pain even with no blood to lose, there is something loving in his movements. 

“So beautiful.”

The voice is in your head but you know it is a projection of the man destroying you. If you were able you would touch him, comfort him somehow, you knew you would discover why he is so lost and sad. But you are bound and useless as he takes out a new instrument. You can feel your skin bubbling under the heat. Screaming, but the sound goes no where, the man winces so you force yourself to stop. 

You calm your mind, trying to see past the agony to let him know its not his fault, “I forgive you,” again no real sound can penetrate the thick air but the brief pause in his punishment is enough to let you know he understood. 

A brief flash of white, it takes over everything for only a second. Then it becomes a scene of fireworks. Everything stops, there is no feeling or sense of the man who was breaking you apart. Someone is freeing you, helping you off the cold slab, standing you up on your feet.

“I am Castiel, I am Angel of the Lord and you must come with us.” It isn’t a person, you wonder if this is what angels are like in heaven, nothing but pulsing sensation of light and sound. 

Lost for words you slowly nod a yes, then the question pops from your mouth even though you hadn’t been expecting it, “why me?” 

This sentient light engulfs you, more than surrounding your being, you can feel it in new lungs and the blood in the freshly made veins. Its creating you, blocking out the screams and clanks and the smell of sulfur. Through newly sculpted ears you hear your first sounds, “Dean he will need you, you are going to save the world.” You were floating. 

It was dark, so pitch black you were in a complete void, but the smell was no longer a far off sense. It was visceral, the wood and moldy earth. Sucking in a stale gulp of air, it dawned on you, you were buried. As you began kicking at the lid of the coffin it easily gave way, the rot making it softer. You were glad you had no one to make a fuss about your death. Clawing into the surface you pulled yourself up, that first breath of air hitting you and causing you to inhale faster, wanting to taste reality. Sitting in the loose mind of dirt, noticing the deep stains on the white satin of your burial dress only one word came to mind, “Dean.” 

You stood, totally lost, but you needed to start going now if you were going to find him.


End file.
